


Henry makes him wait.

by Giglet



Category: The Sting (1973)
Genre: 100-1000 Words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-04
Updated: 2009-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giglet/pseuds/Giglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry makes him wait. Johnny never was the patient sort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Henry makes him wait.

**Author's Note:**

> A piece of a story that plays off of Dorinda's [The Buried Treasure Racket](http://www.yuletidetreasure.org/archive/30/theburied.html).

Henry makes him wait.

At first -- well, no, at first Johnny didn't really notice it, to be honest, what with the Lonnegan con and his chances of surviving Lonnegan's torpedoes not being so good, and Johnny not always caring as much about that as he probably ought to have. He was still reeling from losing Luther. Back then, he just figured that Henry was thinking deep twisty thoughts before talking, and there's some truth to that. Not the whole truth, not by a mile and a quarter, but some.

After the Lonnegan sting, he got to thinking that Henry was being coy. It happened this way: Henry would keep him waiting before explaining a con in just the same way that a girl he was dating would let him stew in the foyer when he came to pick her up. It was a good play for building anticipation. By the time he'd been standing there for fifteen minutes with his cap in hand, trying to make conversation with her dad, any rescue would have been welcome. So when she finally came down the steps all primped and sweet-smelling, she looked like an angel of deliverance. And she would tease him with a good long look at her legs sheathed in shiny stockings. Jesus.

The waiting had worked: he'd nearly gone straight for some of those girls. More than once, he'd nearly tripped into being a good law-abiding citizen. He could have gotten a job in her daddy's cobbler shop, or her daddy's restaurant. There was even the daughter of a policeman who had talked to him about joining the Force. Now that would have been a prime gig, with a badge and a salary and the world ready for plucking. But it wouldn't have been any fun. Marrying one of them girls would have killed him: he would bore himself to death, walking the straight and narrow from the church right into his grave.

It wasn't until he met Luther that he'd been welcomed into a family that didn't expect him to change. Luther had used him at first like a good conman would use any snot-nosed kid who thought he was a real hotshot. But by the time Johnny figured out what was going on, he'd also discovered that Luther was teaching him things, useful things, and there was usually a dime or a dollar in it for him. And that maybe he hadn't been such hot stuff. He'd been in a turmoil over that, not sure whether to smile or snarl the day he went to Sunday dinner at Luther's. He minded his manners, though, as he sat between Alva and Louise. Before he knew it, Alva was telling him about the time she pulled the Poke while wearing a tight girdle, and sometime between laughing and dessert, Johnny fell into place in the Coleman family: a little younger than Louise, a little older than Leroy. He didn't have to hide bits of himself here, and their arms were open wide. So he grinned and stayed and soaked up the cons and the stories and the warnings like a sponge.

A few of those stories had been about Henry Gondorff. Enough that when Johnny got to Chicago, he'd been disappointed to find a snoring drunk. He sure hadn't been disappointed by the scam, though. Once Henry got moving, he was a sight to see.

Sometime during the Lonnegan con, Johnny decided that he was going to stick to Henry, after. He liked that Henry trusted him from the very beginning to keep up his end. Maybe early on, Johnny'd thought that Henry was like Luther, sort of an uncle. (Not a father, though. Johnny had had a father, and one giver of law and bringer of vengeance was more than enough to last his entire life. Oh brother.) That had shifted pretty quick, though: there was something about Henry, something that Johnny liked a lot and not like an uncle. Might have been his eyes, or his smile when Johnny got something right, or his amazing hands flipping those cards. Might have been the way he wore his hat. But probably, it was his style.

Luther'd said Gondorff had style, so at first Johnny had been looking for flashy clothes or a fake accent. But Henry's style was something else entirely. It was in the way he moved, the way he thought, the way he planned. Henry might change almost everything about himself to fit a job, but that style was always there, underneath. And watching Henry had the same effect on Johnny as watching those long curved legs, shining in silk, come down those steps. He just couldn't wait to get right up close.

By the time Johnny'd figured that out, and figured out what he wanted from Henry -- not an uncle at all -- he'd noticed the waiting. Henry made him wait, without any guarantee that he wouldn't be waiting forever. Being a man of action, Johnny hated waiting. But trying to hurry Henry just made the man slow down. Johnny figured that out in about two seconds flat. And like those girls he'd dated, waiting for Henry had its own rewards. So that's when he thought that Henry was being coy.

It was a hell of a surprise when he realized that Henry wasn't flirting. He wasn't leading him on, wasn't planning to move beyond a few unguarded looks. A hell of a surprise. Johnny hadn't misinterpreted the looks, he knew he hadn't. Henry wanted him, but for some damn reason, he was keeping his distance.

Henry planned, and Johnny loved that about him. But this, them, wasn't something that anyone could have planned. It just was, and one of them had to act on it.

Johnny figured that meant he was in charge.


End file.
